


feud: Wanderer vs. Moros

by Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra
Summary: Wanderer and Moros do not get along.





	1. Chapter 1

Lorette would have loved to trust others, but she simply couldn’t force herself to give them the benefit of the doubt anymore. She looked between Moros and Wanderer, struggling to maintain her most intimidating glare.

“All right, which one of you two took the scroll I was reading?”

“What are you talking about?” Wanderer said, the Coatl’s face as open and friendly as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. With his fluffy feathers and his twee little bows, he gave a general impression of never quite having grown up.

“I had a scroll,” Lorette forced out between her teeth. “It was here. I went to get some food. Now it’s gone.”

She  _would_ have ended up with the clan’s two worst tricksters and thieves as her Coliseum team. They were, perhaps, more pleasant to be around than some other clan members, but she didn’t trust either of them as far as she could throw them – and she could barely have budged Moros.

“I didn’t take it,” the Ridgeback said, turning away as if she’d lost interest. She probably had some  _other_ stolen property to play with.

Lorette looked at Wanderer. “Well?”

“You’re just going to take her at her word?” the Coatl whined. “Everyone knows that Ridgebacks steal. Everyone knows that  _Moros_ steals. Whereas I – ”

“You’re a filthy liar,” Moros snarled, whirling on the smaller dragon. Wanderer jumped back, but his eyes sparked with rage, and Lorette knew she’d better get between them before the two of them embarked on some sort of blood feud.

“Stop, both of you!” she ordered. She shook her head, trying desperately to clear it. “Lightweaver… Apologize to each other and  _don’t_  try to get revenge, if you please. I just want my scroll back, all right?”

Perhaps it was the pathetic tone that crept into her voice on the final question, but the other two dragons looked a little shamefaced, and Lorette thought she’d have to count that as a victory.

“Guess I shouldn’t have said  _all_ Ridgebacks steal,” Wanderer muttered. He seemed apologetic, but who knew, with him? “I don’t know  _all_. But Moros does; that’s true.”

“Yep, it’s true.” Moros grinned, her good humor restored. “I didn’t take your scroll, though, Lorette. Trust me. You know I like stealing more than keeping, don’t you? It must have been the fluff-ball here.”

“I  _didn’t_ take it,” Wanderer insisted. “Maybe no one did. Could you have lost it, Lorette? Perhaps your familiar grabbed it.”

Lorette glared at the Coatl. “Oh, yes, I’m so absent-minded that I simply didn’t notice when a  _Hippojay_ jumped up onto my desk and snatched away what I was in the middle of reading, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, maybe I ought to just go back to staring at clouds and chasing butterflies – ”

“ _All right_ ,” Wanderer said. “You’re smart. Sure. But are you absolutely certain that someone took your scroll? Why don’t we take another look in  your cavern?”

Moros nodded sagely. “I’d love to help you look for it.”

 _You’d love to help yourself to more of my stuff_ , Lorette thought, but then she felt a bit guilty for judging the Ridgeback so harshly. She bowed her head, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. “Fine. Let’s go look.”

They entered her cavern, and the scroll still wasn’t sitting in plain view where she’d left it, as Lorette would have pointed out acridly to Wanderer if she hadn’t been making a conscious effort to be nicer to her clan-mates. She had to admit that she’d been a bit quick to accuse, just because the two of them had a reputation…

“Maybe it is in with my other things,” Lorette admitted, although she didn’t really believe this to be the case. She went to a pile of other scrolls she’d read recently – she ought to return some of them to Bartos – and began to paw through them. “I don’t see it, though…”

“Is this it?” Moros said, fishing a rather crumpled roll of parchment out from behind one of the rocks that Lorette liked to curl around as she slept. “ ‘On the Care and Keeping of Avian Familiars’?”

“Yes, that’s it!” Lorette leapt across the cavern and snatched the scroll out of Moros’ claws, much to the Ridgeback’s surprise. “Oh, thank you, Moros – I really do need this. I’m sorry for accusing you two; I shouldn’t have. Please let me make it up to you sometime.”

“Just glad that we could help,” Wanderer said, smiling broadly. “Well, we’ll leave you to your reading, then.”

He bowed politely to let Moros precede him out of the room, and for a moment Lorette thought she saw something dark in the Coatl’s purple eyes. Lightweaver, she hoped he still wasn’t angry at Moros for calling him a liar – or at Lorette herself, for calling him a thief. No, she’d asked them to apologize; surely it would be all right. She turned back to her scroll, curled around the rock where Moros had found it – and found a bit of purple thread snagged on the floor. Purple, like the bows Wanderer wore? He hadn’t searched this side of the room – unless…

 _You have a nasty, suspicious mind_ , Lorette scolded herself. She’d just lost the scroll, that was all. Her clan-mates – her teammates – had nothing to do with it; they had helped her find it, and for that she should be grateful.


	2. Chapter 2

Wanderer nearly fell asleep waiting for Moros to leave her room. Shadowbinder, how much of a shut-in could the Ridgeback possibly be? It’d been a whole… Two hours. Okay, he was just really bored. He shook his head and ruffled his feathers. Nothing would distract him, not this time. Moros had to know that she couldn’t just insult him like [that](http://lukrasclan.tumblr.com/post/105447553153/lorette-would-have-loved-to-trust-others-but-she); he still felt hot rage rise in him as he seemed to hear again her voice:  _You’re a filthy liar_.

 _Well, she’s right, isn’t she?_ said a voice at the back of Wanderer’s mind that sounded oddly like Bartos. But she wasn’t. Oh, sure, he might occasionally stretch the truth – it was fun, and gods only knew the Shadowbinder would have approved. But “liar” was a strong word, and “filthy”? No. He’d pretended to make nice, but he had every intention of getting his revenge, never mind that Lorette had specifically asked him not to. So here he was, lurking outside Moros’ room with something that would truly, unforgivably incriminate the Ridgeback: an egg.

It had been quite a trip, sneaking the egg out of the Nesting Grounds and all the way up to Moros’ cavern. Despite his anger at Moros, Wanderer had needed to move very slowly to make sure that he wouldn’t damage the egg. The hatchling-to-be inside hadn’t done anything to offend him, after all.

 _What if Moros reacts violently to this fresh accusation of theft?_ The egg could still suffer for Wanderer’s actions. He pushed the thought away. That would be the Ridgeback’s fault, not his. Just “stealing” the egg might be enough to get the larger dragon kicked out of the clan; if it were damaged… Well, this trick could actually put Moros in mortal danger.

_She shouldn’t have insulted me, then._

Finally, the Ridgeback left her cavern. She didn’t even glance in the direction of the fissure where Wanderer lay concealed with his prize, but he still waited a few minutes to make sure that she wasn’t going to return. No sign of her. Good. Slowly, Wanderer emerged and began to roll the egg into Moros’ cavern.

He surveyed the room. It was an odd hodgepodge, miscellaneous objects scattered across the floor. Some of them Wanderer recognized as belonging to other clan members. That’d just make this all the more believable, then – but Wanderer needed to plant the egg and get out fast, before Moros returned or Nesita noticed its absence. Now, where to put it? It shouldn’t be out in the open – that was too obvious – but it had to be somewhere it’d be easily found when the clan searched Moros’ room. He spotted a messy pile of fabric in a corner, some apparel or other that Moros had snatched. Perfect. Slipping the egg underneath, he considered the tableau thus created. It had already been in such disarray that he doubted Moros would notice the alteration, but there was a significant round lump, enough to point out the hiding spot to anyone who knew what they were looking for.

 _My work here is done._ Wanderer slipped out of the room and back to his own cavern, barely able to suppress a grin. Now all he had to do was wait. Nesita would notice the egg’s absence soon, and with Moros’ history of kleptomania, he shouldn’t even have to say anything to make suspicion fall upon her. If it took too long, he could perhaps make a suggestion “in confidence” to another dragon – Kelsus or Zura would make good targets; they were trusting enough to take his words at face value. Either way, there was no way anyone would trace this back to him. Moros was going to suffer, and it’d be beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

“Where’s the egg?”

Nesita didn’t often raise her voice, being a very laid-back soul, so when Moros heard the edge of panic in the Tundra’s voice, she had to pay attention. An egg missing? That wasn’t good.

Moros entered the Nesting Grounds to find that several other dragons had beat her to it: Delemont, Zura, Geras, Lorette… Kelsus was clinging to the ceiling, a spot of green that clashed rather horribly with the pale pink rock. A hubbub of questions and exclamations rose over the group; the rest of the clan would probably be here soon, drawn by the noise. They certainly weren’t going to figure anything out like this.

Just before Moros was going to speak up and suggest quiet, Delemont gave a thundering roar. Into the silence that followed, he snapped, “Shut up! How’re we supposed to learn anything with the lot of you babbling like idiots?”

Glaring indiscriminately at his clan-mates, Delemont turned to Nesita. “What happened?”

“Not much to tell,” the Tundra said, her voice a bit unsteady. Moros had _never_ heard Nesita sound anxious or upset before. "I left for a few minutes to get some food, and when I came back, one of the eggs was missing.“

"Who would take an egg?” Lorette asked, a certain note of horror in her voice. You didn’t mess with eggs. That was beyond the pale even for Moros, with her fondness for borrowing others’ property.

“Maybe it was one of the familiars,” Geras said nervously. “Or another beast that snuck into the lair. Some of them…”

“It’s possible,” Nesita said. She sounded a bit calmer now that a potential answer had been suggested, although the likely fate for an egg stolen by beasts was not kind. The Tundra shook her head, thick fur rustling. “Let’s split up and search for it. Tell the others, too. The sooner we get moving, the better chance we have of finding it before…”

With a chorus of agreement, the dragons split up. A particle of annoyance rested beneath Moros’ general alarm: she’d had  _plans_ for today. Now, of course, they were canceled; finding the egg was the most important thing. But whoever’d taken it would suffer for their transgression, be they beast or dragon. That was the best way to ensure that it never happened again.


	4. Chapter 4

“What are you doing in my room?”

The sound of Moros’ angry voice was music to Wanderer’s ears. Particularly as it wasn’t directed at him. The Ridgeback had no idea that her coming downfall was entirely his invention – and, unfortunately, she never would. Wanderer would have liked for Moros to  _realize_ that she was being punished for insulting him, but that would be dangerous.

“Calm your spikes; we’re just looking for the egg.” That was Delemont. Sounded like there might be quite a confrontation brewing, if Wanderer knew those two. He resisted the urge to enter the room; as much as he’d like to see the moment of his triumph, he didn’t want to be associated with the discovery of Moros’ “guilt” at all, in case anyone actually believed her inevitable protestations of innocence and started to look for alternate explanations.

“Among all this mess.” That disdainful statement came from Lailyn – even better. She and Moros had already clashed over the Ridgeback’s kleptomaniac tendencies, and the Skydancer was not inclined to forgive and forget. “I might want to take a few of  _my_ things that have, Stormcatcher only knows how, ended up in here.” _  
_

The Lightning dragon’s tone made it clear that she had a very clear idea of Moros’ crimes without calling upon her deity. Wanderer’s tail lashed in excitement. These were just the dragons he would have chosen to search the Ridgeback’s room. Moros was going to be in so much trouble once someone noticed the telltale lump of the egg.

Except that minutes passed with no shouts of discovery and accusation, and Wanderer was starting to get bored. Maybe he should go in there and point Delemont and Lailyn in the right direction. Subtly, of course, so that it couldn’t be traced back to him…

Lorette came hurtling down the hallway, her long body coiling and uncoiling as she flew. “Delemont! Lailyn! It’s all right! Nesita found the egg.”

As Wanderer, lurking out of sight in a crack in the tunnel wall, twitched in surprise, Delemont came out of Moros’ room. “Don’t tell me that idiot Tundra lost the cursed thing.”

A shrug went down the entire length of Lorette’s body. “It was in one of the corners of the hatchery. Maybe the hatchling within started to move and rolled it – ”

“Whatever.” Delemont cut Lorette off savagely and turned away, sprinting down the corridor with a snarl on his face. “What a waste of time.”

“I hate to agree with such an uncouth expression, but I do have other things to do with my life." Lailyn emerged from Moros’ room as well, gave an elegant shrug, and started off. "One would  _wish_  that the keeper of our hatchery weren’t half-blind.”

“Hey, Lorette,” Moros said, standing in the opening to her own cave.

“Moros. They were searching your room?” There was worry in Lorette’s voice, as she turned from gazing mournfully after Delemont and Lailyn – clearly upset by their attitudes – to regarding the Ridgeback.

Moros shrugged. “You know what it’s like when you have a reputation like mine. Anything goes missing, everyone looks at me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Lorette said. Wanderer knew that she meant it, and it made him feel a bit disgusted; how could the Spiral possibly be  _so naive_?

Moros grinned. “It’s not like I didn’t do anything to earn that reputation. Don’t you fret about me, Lorette. Why don’t you go back to your books? I have some cleaning up to do.”

“If you’re all right,” Lorette said, and when Moros nodded that she was, the Spiral departed. Moros stayed in her doorway, though, to Wanderer’s considerably annoyance: he couldn’t leave until she went back into her room, or she’d see him.

“Wanderer,” Moros said. Her voice had gone flat, with none of the good humor that she evinced around Lorette. “I know you’re there. Come on out.”

Swallowing hard, Wanderer crawled out of the crevice that had hidden him. He had a bad feeling about this. Beneath Moros’ veneer of amiability, he’d caught glimpses of savagery, of extreme fury, and she was a lot bigger than him, even if he had magic on his side.

“I know what you tried to do today,” Moros said, almost wearily. When Wanderer opened his mouth, she added, “Don’t bother denying it. It’s revenge, isn’t it? I might have tried the same thing, had Lorette not specifically requested that we didn’t – apparently I respect that more than you do.”

“Are you going to share your theory with anyone?” So he’d been foiled. Somehow, Moros had found the egg in her room and managed to return it to the hatchery unseen. Curse it, how could such a massive dragon be so stealthy?

Moros sighed. “I’d like to do you a favor, but if you can’t bury this quarrel…”

“I understand,” Wanderer said. She didn’t even have to threaten him; he knew all too well what the consequences would be if the rest of the clan learned that he’d taken an egg – he’d plotted them for Moros. “I’m grateful for the good turn, Moros. Let’s be friends.”

The Ridgeback smiled down at the Coatl, and it was not a pleasant expression – entirely too many sharp teeth. “Let’s.”


End file.
